Twilight Witfit Drabbles
by d3lyricool3xi
Summary: Just trying out some prompts from witfit up to writing a story here. I've seen some great writers here, so I want to polish a little. They'll all be twilight-based, so I hope you enjoy them! -Putting M just in case, as there will probably be some adult content and language in some of them-


**Date: November 8, 2012**

**Word Prompt: Austere**

**Scenario: You need to have a heart-to-heart talk with a friend about a difficult topic.**

"No!" Large dark eyes light up with anger.

"Ali-"

"No! Get out!" Pale skin blotches with angry red, short black hair bristling with barely intact restraint.

"Alice, we need to-"

"I SAID GET OUT!" Now her entire four foot teen frame trembles as a single, slender finger points toward her white front door.

I've had it. Every single time. Every single time I try to talk to her about this, she does this. It always starts the same. The preparatory shifting, the inhalation of a long, bracing breath, the tentative clearing of the throat that indicates I want to speak about something… heavier. Something deeper than the latest fashion, or what we think of the new musicians that came out, or television shows. Something that's been hanging over us like an anvil of perpetual gloom for months now, making the air between us heavy even when the conversation is as close to the mundane surface as it can get. And it's always the same reaction with her.

First comes the stiffening of her shoulders. Then, she sucks in a little breath, and I know that her defense system is about to start. I can practically see it as she shuts me out, her body tensing to ward off any possibility of a touch, her face hardening to conceal any trace of emotion that could be seen, her mouth shutting firmly to trap any words that could possibly give away what she's thinking, what she's feeling. It's so different from the usual vivacious, almost annoying hyper woman that I've grown up with. No matter how hard I try to penetrate it, the barrier she put up is there. And it hurts.

I don't know when it started. We've always been the best of friends, ever since we traded favorite popsicles at the neighborhood park when we were four. Ever since then, for the past seventeen years, we've practically lived in each other's houses, adopted each other's families and clothes and whatever else we could. Anything we wanted to talk about- boys, periods, school, parents, dreams, or just stupid things that we wanted to giggle about just because we were two girls and could if we wanted to- we talked about it all. I can safely say I know everything about her, and that she knows everything about me. I know that she lied to her dad one Saturday that she was going to the movies with me when she really went with Mike Newton and they made out and she hated it. She knows that I once had a crush on our math teacher, Mr. Cullen, and got turned down after I confessed. All of the first dates and boyfriends, breakups, family problems and personal problems, sleeping and eating habits, flaws and good points- we know everything about each other. But, for the past few months, it seems like I don't know her at all, and I can't continue holding onto a stranger.

I don't want it to stay like this. I've fought for what feels like forever; I know that if I leave now, it'll be over. This is my last chance to salvage the remains of our friendship that was shattered that rainy night.

"Alice," I say desperately, taking a tentative step away from the black couch, over to where she jumped away from me in front of the television. The glass coffee table is in between us, but it's a small obstacle in the long road of our estrangement.

"Don't come near me," she snarls. "I told you I don't want to talk about it. Why do you keep trying to bring it up?"

"Why do you keep avoiding it?" Finally, my dam bursts, because she's finally giving me a chance to talk. "Every time I try to talk about it, you shut me out! I'm supposed to be your best friend. We're supposed to be there for each other, especially when we're having a hard time. You're not the only one having a hard time right now!"

"Shut up," she says, but I'm not done. I take a step closer, the words spewing out of me like the lava of a volcano, overflowing uncontrollably, heedless of the damage left in their wake as long as they burn away the torture of being trapped inside.

"You promised! You said no matter what happened in our lives, that we'd work through it together, that we'd always be there. But you haven't been there for me at all! I've been here, sticking by your side, listening to you talk on and on about things that don't matter just so you can get your mind off of him!"

I watch as she tenses so visibly I hear bones crack, and then her eyes narrow at me, spewing fire and venom.

"Don't you_ dare_," she says through clenched teeth. But I'm not backing down. It's my turn now.

"I'll say whatever I want," I say, lowering my voice to match her own menacing tone, taking another step closer and watching with satisfaction as a flash of fear shines in those dark eyes. I let out a laugh that doesn't sound like me. "I'll say his name. All I want. I'll talk about _Edward_ all I want." As I say the name, my voice cracks, but I go on, and I see the impact it makes on her in the way she steps back and draws in a breath, her face becoming unguarded for a split second. That small revelations spurs me on, even as my heart splinters.

"I'll talk about him, because he was my fiance, and your brother, and we both lost someone we love! I'm TIRED of skirting around it."

"Stop it."

"I'm tired of treating him like some kind of disease just because you can't deal with talking about your own brother! I'm tired of pretending like he didn't exist just to make you more comfortable. I'm _sick_ of it."

"Stop it!"

"I'm tired of you killing Edward when he's already gone!"

"STOP IT!"

It's silent as we stare at each other, both breathing hard, mirrors of each other except for my taller height, brown hair and lighter brown eyes. It's not the appearance that's similar; it's our tense, clenched-fist postures, our heavy, rapid breaths, the panic and anger and pain filling our eyes as we stare.

"You…" she starts, and then stops and swallows. "You don't have ANY right to talk about…. him."

"Talk about WHO, Alice?" I ask her, goading her, and watch as her mouth hardens against trembling, the panic in her eyes growing.

"My brother," she whispers vehemently, the panic in her eyes begging me not to push her.

"Say his name, Alice," I say, and I'm goading, but I'm pleading too. _Please, Alice. Please. Say it so we can get out of this place. Say it so that I don't lose someone else I love._

She freezes and then something in her eyes hardens, turning cold. I feel my heart sink. When she looks like this, I knew that it's impossible. It means that she's simply chosen to shut me out and not acknowledge anything. When she becomes **austere,** I know that our friendship is one more step to being over. Except this time, I feel it in my bones that this is the last step in the long winding road that was paved in love, understanding, and acceptance. All that's left now is the dirt of negative emotions, weariness, and alienation so strong that it's palpable, like the incessant ache of small rocks trapped in your shoe.

"Get out," she says with finality, and I know that whatever was left is fading away.

"Fine, Alice," I say wearily, and feel everything drain out of my body. I've had enough of fighting it. I'm tired of walking and always being the one constantly checking my shoes to make sure I'm not treading too harshly or stepping where I shouldn't. I'm at a dead end, and there's nothing I can do about it except turn around and leave. "Just… Fine. Forget it," I say, and see her eyes widen imperceptibly.

I can hear the question floating in the air, but I know she won't ask it by the subtle lifting of her chin, the hardening of her jaw. She's going to let this- let us- go. She's not going to ask if this means we're done, if I'm walking out of her life forever. I feel tears fill my eyes, but I blink them back. If she can be cold and aloof, then so can I. That's the last effort I can put into this.

"You know, we've been friends for seventeen years, Alice," I say calmly, standing tall and crossing my arms, eyeing her. "But over the past few months, I can't even say that we're that. And I guess now, it's time we both acknowledge that. When I leave this time, I'm not coming back."

I hear her slight, sharp exhalation, see her shoulders tense even more. But I know she'll keep her facade up, and this time I let her.

"Fine," she says, the slight tremor in her voice the only thing betraying her emotions. I let out a sigh and along with it the grain of hope that the ultimatum would change anything.

I turn and walk to the door, putting the last final steps in our friendship with the impact of my feet against the slick wood floor. When I reach it, I pause. "I loved him just as much as you did, Alice. It isn't my fault that he died. And now, it's YOUR fault that he'll be gone forever." And then I'm opening the door, about to step out, when she finally, finally breaks.

"It IS your fault!" There. She said it.

I freeze, one hand on the nob, clenching so tightly I can see the blood rushing from it, leaving my skin a deathly white that rivals its usual pale pallor. I'm shaking suddenly, months of pent-up emotion and anticipation rolling over me so quickly I feel nauseous. My breath comes out in quick, fast puffs, and everything seems to slow down, turning and pivoting before settling. And once it does, I can breathe a little bit more freely.

Slowly, I turn to her, looking at her across the space of her modern living room. Her eyes are blazing with fury and betrayal and… overwhelming hurt. And suddenly she's walking toward me quickly, tears and anger filling her eyes and spilling over her cheeks, painting them with redness and moisture.

"He never would have gone if you hadn't called him! He was tired, and you knew it, and you BEGGED him to come!" she yells at me, coming to a stop in front of me. Her long, sharp nail comes out to poke me in the chest as her voice gets shriller, higher, months of holding in her feelings finally taking its toll in a display that I've been wanting for months.

"I didn't beg him!" I yell back, tears filling my own eyes. "I asked him, and I told him to stay home if he was too tired! But he insisted," I say, finally able to tell her. It's taken me months of self-meditation and therapy myself to come to this conclusion, but I know it's true. It's not my fault, and I need Alice to see that and mourn him properly. I need her to see it too, so that we can move on and keep him alive between us. And the only way is this way.

"You knew if you asked he would do it. You knew," she insists, blinking rapidly as the tears continue.

"He was a grown man, Alice. It was his choice! I didn't make him come! Do you think that if I knew for a second that he would die that I would have asked him to come? I… I loved him so much, Alice," I say, and my throat is becoming choked.

She's silent for a second, and then the look of panicked pain is back, and she steps up right in front of my face, her face contorted. "You killed him! You did! You killed my brother! You killed Edward," she yells, and then she's in my arms, sobbing, and I'm sobbing with her. She finally said it. After all these months, she said his name. Edward.

"Alice," I say, because her name is the only thing I can say. I knew she was blaming me all of this time, why she's been shutting me out. But she's said his name for the first time, and that alone fills me with more hope than anything else.

"It's your fault," she sobs over and over into my neck, even as her tiny arms tighten around me and she shakes against me. Finally, I can see behind her facade, I can finally touch her. I can finally see my friend behind the mask of coldness, and I feel such a sense of relief that my limbs feel weak.

"Alice…" I say again, and then she's saying my name, and we're crying and squeezing each other together.

"I loved him so much, Bella. I miss him so much," she sobs, and I reply, "I know. I do too. I'm sorry Alice. I'm so sorry." Because even if it's not my fault, I know that's what she needs to hear, and I am so sorry that he's gone, that the one man that I thought I would spend the rest of my life with no longer walks this earth. Never again will we see that crooked smile with the dimple when he was being mischievous, or his crazy copper bed hair that sprung in every single direction except the one it was supposed to go in, or hear his melodious voice when he spoke to us. He's gone, taken away with the car that slid and crashed down the mountains in a storm ten months ago. Never again will I feel his large, warm hands caress me, excite me, and calm me, or his arms engulf me and shelter me from the world with their warmth. Never again will we see our Edward in the flesh.

But there is one way we can keep him alive. And that's through talking about him, by keeping the bond between us that led to me meeting him strong so that the two people who knew him the best can find solace in each other.

And maybe she won't be able to talk about it freely for a while, and I know it'll take her a while to fight through blaming me. It won't be easy. But I know that now, we can deal with it and work through it together, because we're finally getting back to the place of true friendship that we used to be- the place where Edward will live on through shared words, pictures, and happy, loving memories. And I'm determined to get there, even if the steps back to it are small.

**So yeah, kinda sad but, that's what came up! Will anyone even read this? XD Well, if ya do, please leave your review~ I'm working up to writing a story, just getting some inspiration and practice here **


End file.
